


Shower.

by Skipz12



Series: Fine Stud Lexa [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fine Stud Lexa, Forgive Me, Shameless Smut, Smut, this went from 0 to 100 baby real quick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6314164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skipz12/pseuds/Skipz12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come for me Clarke."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shower.

**Author's Note:**

> Fine stud Lexa has evolved from me writing about the aesthetic, to writing about the life, to just writing shit.
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy. Leave comments and thoughts if you have any, I love them.
> 
> Accompanying tumblr post (http://skipz12.tumblr.com/post/141428589593/come-for-me-clarke-fic-x-inspired-by-the-fine)

“Yes mom, we’ll be there I promise”

Lexa looks to her at the plural mention with a questioning look on her face and she snickers under her breath. “Yes Lexa is actually really excited to see you again” and Lexa rolls her eyes before returning to the closet.

“Yes mom-yes, I love you too…okay, sure, bye” she hangs up the phone as her wife returns from the closet.

“So why am I excited to see Abby again?” Lexa stands against the bed frame arms crossed looking at Clarke pointedly.

“Because we’re going to visit her next Sunday and I had to assure her I wasn’t dragging you by your belt loops to go.” She watches Lexa shake her head in amusement and smiles.

“So what’s the occasion?”

“She wants us down so I can finally meet…Marcus.” Lexa looks at her wife a bit steadier at that.

“Marcus? As in the Kane charities founder she had dinner with 4 months ago Marcus?” And Clarke merely nods her head with a soft sigh and Lexa walks the length of the bed to lie beside her. “And are you okay with going to meet Marcus?”

It had been 4 years since her father passed away and while she had moved passed mourning it didn’t mean moments like this still didn’t tighten her chest a little.

“You know I hadn’t heard my mother sound like that in a long time.”

“Like what?”

“Happy.” It was the truth and she wouldn’t deny it. Her mother had sounded light and carefree these last couple of months, something Clarke had long since forgotten her mother could sound like. After her father Jake passed Abby threw herself into her work, countless days bleeding into each other at the Hospital. All Clarke wanted was for her mother to heal, to see the cracks in her heart begin to settle and reform. 4 months ago her mother had attended a Charity gala for Kane Foundations, and met their founder Marcus Kane and he had asked her to dinner and surprisingly Abby said yes. Raven had called her two months later explaining how she bumped into them at the market and seen them together. She describes how he, a very pleasant and attractive man, made her laugh and how for the first time in a long time she’d seen Abby joke and smile with such genuine joy.

It had made Clarke tear up to hear that, yes she would miss her father for the rest of her life but more than anything she wanted her mother to be whole again and she would gladly give her blessing to anyone who could accomplish that.

“I’m glad Clarke, she deserves it.” Lexa gives her a soft kiss at the top of her hairline and she sighs into it. It was a rare day that Lexa decided to not go into work, instead lazing around with Clarke in the penthouse. She surveys her wife as she lies beside her; she was so gorgeous with her strong jaw and light eyes. The jeans she was wearing were a soft white and they were old and worn probably the oldest, least expensive apparel Lexa owned, and even then they still clung to her fitted and low on her hips. The edge of her Henley shirt was pushed up revealing a peak at the perfection underneath, the jut of Lexa’s hip bone made Clarke lick her lips. The soft elastic band of those Calvin Klein briefs that lay snug just beneath it made her mouth water. She smelled delicious as well, no doubt a result of the earthy but subtle _Bleu de Chanel_ cologne Clarke got her last Christmas. And _fuck gender labeling_ that scent was made for Lexa and Clarke breathed it in with the same reverence she did the oxygen around them.

She twists and turns the Cartier wedding ring on her finger, and she suddenly knows what she wants to do for the next hour or so.

Clarke gets up from the bed, and stretches her arms high, and lets out a ridiculous moan of satisfaction.

“Anyway, I’m going to take a shower.” She hears Lexa hum in acknowledgement and waits.

And _waits._

And… _why is she still waiting?_

She turns to her wife with some sort of expectancy and watches as Lexa, body half stretched off the bed, pours herself a glass of scotch from the bottle on the nightstand, two ice cubes to crisp the taste. Clarke holds her position while Lexa takes an appreciative sip and unwraps one of those sinfully delicious soft caramels ( _the only sweets her wife indulged_ ) and eats it. Only when Lexa lays back, glass in one hand iPhone in the other with no attention spared toward Clarke does she speak.

“Well?”

Lexa’s eyes flick toward her. “Well what?”

“Aren’t you coming with me?”

Lexa smirks taking another sip of her drink. “Clarke, I’m not dirty.”

It’s a statement, but she takes it as a challenge one she plans to accept whole heartedly.

“Hmm, I see” she walks back to the bed lifts one leg over the brunette and settle her weight on the girls waist straddling her. Lexa looks up at her and Clarke can see the spark of excitement in those green eyes and feels her pulse quicken. “Let’s rectify that.”

And she’s not Lexa, she doesn’t hover and tease. No she gets right to it, smasher her lips to Lexa’s and her tongue is instantly at work, licking at Lexa’s lips she demands entrance and her wife readily gives it angling so she can deepen the kiss. The iPhone discarded to the side of the bed, Lexa’s right hand stays held slightly elevated, the scotch tight in her grip far too expensive to waste even a drop and Clarke eyes it with interest as Lexa’s tongue slides across hers. She breaks the kiss and Lexa places the glass back on the nightstand and with both hands free moves to bury one in her hair and the other in her shirt finding a breast to palm. Clarke groans in appreciation but looks to the glass on the nightstand while the other girl busies herself at her neck and her collarbone.

She has an idea, and boy will it be _fun._

“Lift up.” It’s a simple request and Lexa pushes up slightly on her elbows. Clarke grips the loose fabric of Lexa’s shirt and pulls it over the girls head before pushing her gently back down on the bed. She looks down in awe because _damn,_ Lexa’s body is smooth and tight, all hidden coiled muscle underneath her hands and just the sight of her wife laid beneath her with that Calvin Klein bra and those briefs resting against her body has her shivering. She wouldn’t be surprised if Lexa could feel her arousal between both of their jeans.

Lexa look’s at her with wide anticipating eyes and she can’t resist running her hand up and over ribs and breasts one more time just to feel the woman vibrate beneath them.

She sees Lexa licks her lips that surely tasted of caramel and Balvenie and remembers her bright idea. She reaches over to the night stand still straddling the other and grabs the glass. She takes a healthy pull for herself; the warm, spicy taste of smoky cinnamon hits her throat with a delightful burn. She looks at Lexa who watches her throat move and flex with absolute lustful fascination.

And that was the thing about Lexa, she loved to watch.

She couldn’t say it out loud and would probably refuse if you asked her to, but she was voyeur at her core. She saw the way her wife watched her, watched everything actually. Lexa took it all in; the sight of something could arouse Lexa more than the act itself. It’s why Clarke danced for her, why she stripped for her.

Why she _touched herself for her_.

And it’s why she made such a show, all so her girl could watch with wide green eyes.  So she could take care of her, just the way she likes.

She savors the taste on her lips, before looking down.

“Now about this whole _‘clean’_ situation.”

Phase one.

She smirks devilishly before tipping the glass slightly over the girl. She watches as Amber liquid touches to the hollow at Lexa’s throat, pooling there for just a second before a steady stream begins to run down her collar, between her breasts darkening the material of her bra, through the end, down her stomach to pool again at her navel before crawling lower. Lexa fidgets beneath her at the feel and Clarke tips the glass back up barely an inch of scotch left. She sets the glass back on the stand before surveying her work.

The second her tongue dips into her wife’s throat she feels a hand clench her bicep in reflex; she flattens her tongue and lets its lap at the liquid til she has it all. The scotch tastes a bit saltier with the thin sheen sweat of Lexa’s heated skin and yet she thinks it’s never tasted sweeter. Her tongue lavishes down her chest following the trail, she stops at the top of Lexa’s bra pushing the material up and over the girl’s breast to continue the trail, as to not leave a drop wasted.

She’s serious.

That scotch is far too expensive to waste.

She travels the length of her body her hands following the path made first by her tongue and when she stops to dip in the pool of Lexa’s navel she feels the hand at her bicep clench and the short puffs of breath above her grow heavy and harsh.

Rising back up from where she slid down she brings her face back to Lexa. Her eyes are blown so wide Clarke has to search for the green that usually stands at the forefront. Lexa lifts up and captures her lips in a searing kiss and Clarke has to steady herself under the force of it. The kiss is hot and messy and Lexa’s hands are wild in her hair before Clarke pushes her back down, she doesn’t offer an explanation when she reaches back to the nightstand to grab a caramel.

Phase two.

She smiles as she lifts to remove her own shirt, throwing it to join Lexa’s as the girl beneath her watches with intense and focused eyes. She unwraps the caramel, it’s soft and pliant underneath her fingers and she places one half in her mouth before leaning back down to the girl. And Lexa licks her lips before biting softly into the other end, sure to let her lips touch to Clarkes. Clarke pulls lightly fascinated as the caramel stretches and melts a string onto the edge and underside of Lexa’s jaw. And when she leans back down to fully envelop Lexa’s mouth with hers the taste of the rich, buttery sweet, the heady scotch, and her wife’s wet and willing tongue make her head spin and her core ache.

Lexa’s hips arch underneath her searching for pressure and even if Lexa can restrain herself to heavy breaths and slight jerks Clarke knows her well enough to see the desperation begin.

But she has plans for this woman and she’s only just begun.

Lexa looks like she might stop her when she pulls apart again but refrains and Clarke silently commends her wife because she’s always been far more patient than she.

“Lift” another soft request that Lexa more than happily complies too as Clarke pushes the bra completely off the girl’s chest and up her arms, before allowing Lexa to settle back down. She once again reaches over to the nightstand for the glass she’d left there, but instead of grabbing the whole thing she reaches her hand in to retrieve a single ice cube and Lexa squirms beneath. Clarke can feel the heat of Lexa’s skin and can recognize the subtle shift in the brunette’s thighs as they rub together for some kind of friction.

She leans back below Lexa’s chin with ice slowly dripping down her hand and plops the cube in-between her lips with a smile.

Phase three.

When the ice cube touches a pert pink nipple, Lexa can’t stop the ragged moan that escapes her and Clarke mentally cheers at the crumbling resolve. She swirls the ice cube around it for a while, letting the cool ice drip tracks down Lexa’s breast and she slides it across the top of her chest while Lexa follows intently til she reaches the other. Lexa’s hand is snaking through her hair tightly as Clarke lathers the other nipple in cool ice. She knows Lexa’s still trying to hold back, to keep some control over this but Clarke can hear the whines she sees the hand not current in her hair gripping the sheets and she’s so validated.

She wants to hear Lexa break and she’ll wait as long as she has too ( _which quite honestly won’t be long at all_ ).

She swirls the ice cubes in long broad patterns against the girl’s ribs and stomach, watching in pleasure as the muscles in her abdomen clench and unclench. The ice is almost completely melted in her mouth and she drags the last of it down to her wife’s hip and places it right on the jut of her hip bone and waits. Let’s it condense and melt and run across the edge of Lexa’s briefs, lets the cold of the ice create a sting until the last shred of it dissolves and instantly replaced with the warm of her tongue flat and moist across it and-

_“CLARKE FUCK!”_

It comes out in cracks, and sobs, and Clarke can barely breathe when her eyes find Lexa’s. The outburst sent hot oil down her stomach and lit it on fire. Lexa is looking down at her with a desire Clarke so rarely sees, she’s practically unhinged in her lust and Clarke’s heart wants to swell and expand because _she did this_ , she does this to Lexa and she takes pride in the fact that no one else could _ever_ do what she does.

She scrambles up her hands clumsy and unfocused at the button of Lexa’s jeans. She claws and pulls them down over knees and calves, and ankles. When she has them on the ground she gasps lightly, she can see Lexa’s arousal, can smell it, and can practically taste it on memory alone. Her own underwear are without a doubt destroyed by her own wetness but this isn’t about her yet. She wastes no time pulling the briefs down and if she’s being honest in her attempt to wane down Lexa’s patience she’s destroyed whatever barely there shred of her own she had left.

So she dives right in.

The taste on her tongue is indescribable but so completely Lexa; her chin is dripping with it and Lexa arches and rides and grips her hair and pushes her deeper and Clarke takes it all. She lets her tongue swirl and dip and flatten and curl. She paints the _Sistine Chapel_ , _Starry Nights_ , _Guernica_ , and _Primavera_ into Lexa until her moans turn to groans, and groans cry out for release. She feels the girl tighten and shake and Clarke brings one hand to Lexa’s clit and the other to her own ( _lest she die from neglect_ ) and flicks back and forth without hesitance.

Lexa’s grip on her is vice and Clarke knows she’s at the edge of the cliff and she urges her to crash down into Clarkes willing and open arms. And Lexa does with a choke of her name and her knuckles fisted so tightly in sheets she might just rip them open. Clarke accepts it all with a full heart and open mouth and _quite literally_ drinks Lexa in.

The brunette shakes and gasps above her, breaths coming out shallow and spent, but Clarke can’t give her too much time to float down because this is exactly what she was waiting for.

This wasn’t her endgame. The first was simply to build a bridge to the second.

You see the second orgasm was her _favorite._

When Lexa’s walls were shattered, when her restraints and natural defense were down, where everything she felt for Clarke were laid bare to her and she could look into green eyes and see hundred years of searching and Lexa could look into hers and see hundred years of waiting and finally breathe because they had found each other.

She lifts up and pulls away her jeans and underwear in one smooths motion before moving to straddle Lexa, who was still searching for purchase, one leg over her thigh in between the other. When she rocks her hips and her center slides so salaciously over Lexa’s they both can’t fight the ragged moans in their throats.

Lexa’s hands rise to grip Clarke’s hips and she leans down as she begins to rock faster. She settles into a tight rhythm and her eyes roll back and she can’t stop herself from biting deep into the flesh of Lexa’s shoulder because it feels _so fucking good_.

She _loves_ and she _hates_ when they fuck like this.

She hates the way she thinks she can’t get close enough even though they are practically melded together. She hates the way her hips stutter and fracture in pace because _god it’s too much_. She hates the way she wants to kiss Lexa so badly but every shift of their hips against each other, every brush on her clit, steals her breath in rips before she can even set her lips on Lexa’s.

_But she loves every fucking thing about it._

They ride each other hands on thighs, hands on sheets, eyes on each other.

Clarke sees the earth in its entirety.

Lexa sees the stars and all its beauty.

And Clarke knows when they come it will shatter them, the kind of climax that for a moment stops your heart and shocks you back to life.

Pure euphoria.

She’s gripping Lexa so tight and she feels that tell tell coil in her stomach, it’s coming fast and hard.

Lexa grasps her jaw and pulls it towards her closer forcing Clarke to watch her as she watches back.

“Let go for me baby” and Clarke is trying and she’s so damn close.

“Come for me Clarke…”

And her hips give a harder thrust.

“Please.”

The damn breaks, the glass shatters, Clarke feels like she’s falling and the crack of the pavement is inviting, her vision blacks and she comes with a scream of Lexa’s name and in the midst of the void can feel Lexa following suit.

They lay collapsed and tangled in one another for a long while.

Unable to move, unable to talk, but content.

“Wow.”

“Yea, Wow.”

She looks up at her wife bare, sweaty, messy and _wrecked_ and yet still impossibly immaculate and put together. She knows she looks the same (well minus the immaculate put together part, yea she’s sure she’s just _wrecked_ ).

She can’t help the chuckle that weakly spills from her mouth.

“What?” Lexa inquires curious and out of breath.

“This whole thing started with me wanting to get you to shower with me, and now we both desperately need to shower and yet I don’t think either of us could even make it to the shower right now if we tried.”

Lexa joins her in genuine laughter which almost hurts their lungs they’re both so exhausted. Lexa’s eye catches the brown drips on the bed beneath her.

“That stunt with the scotch stained the sheets Clarke, these are _Sferra Milos_ and now I have to buy new ones.” Clarke looks on amused as Lexa forlornly runs her hands over the silk.

“Babe I think the scotch is last on the list of reasons we need to buy new sheets.”

“You’re probably right” the sentiment is sing song out of Lexa and Clarke smiles sated and content. They lay together wrapped in each other softly.

They’re at peace.

“I’m sorry, why would your mom think I’m not excited to see her?”

“Lexa are you serious right now?”

And somewhere in the midst of this ridiculous post-earth shattering sexual experience, as Lexa lectures on the many great impressions she’s so clearly left on Abby, Clarke wonders if they should have exchanged I love you’s somewhere in this.

But as she watches the way Lexa’s eyes never stop sparkling when they look at her and she realizes that there was nothing this girl could ever do to make her fall out of love, she realizes they don’t have too.

It’s pretty damn clear she loves her _fine stud Lexa._

And Lexa loves her right back.

**Author's Note:**

> Well...  
> Im just writing for the filth lol  
> I really enjoyed writing this series at 1 am each night so yes.  
> Once again excuse any grammar errors, I dont have a beta yet.


End file.
